Prologue

L ady Rosella Prescott stared out the window of her family’s London townhouse. It was their family’s turn to host their neighbors for the holiday dinner. It was the start of Christmastide, and their next-door neighbors always celebrated with them. For as long as she could recall, they had done this. Every other year her family would hold the festivities, and opposite years the Duke of Kissinger and his family would do the same.

Her father was the Duke of Clare. Her mother was a former gypsy, or perhaps she still was, but she did not follow their customs. Mostly. Sometimes, Lulia, the Duchess of Clare, would get an odd idea in her head that only made sense to her. She was the most unconventional duchess. Somehow, she made her station work for her, though. Rosella adored her mother and for her, she saw no reason for the duchess to be anything other than herself. When she was older, she wanted to be just like her. There was no one she’d rather emulate than her mother.

“Why do you have your nose to the window?” her older brother Asher asked. He leaned against the doorway and stared at her. “Do you think if you stare out the window long enough, you’ll see snow fall?”

She turned and stuck her tongue out of him. He could be such a pain. Brothers, she thought, were insufferable creatures, existing solely to vex their sisters. Sometimes she really did not like him. “I’m waiting for Noelle,” she said.

“Of course you are.” He sighed. “I really wish we could dispense with this yearly tradition. We have been doing it long enough already. I’d much rather it just remained the family.”

“I don’t agree,” she said. She loved her brother. She really did. But she didn’t want to spend all of Christmastide with only him for company. He didn’t seem to like her any more than she did him at times. Noelle was the only person who made her days tolerable. She was her best friend. “And if you stop to consider it, neither do you. You enjoy when Lucian visits.”

“You should not use his given name,” Asher chastised her. “He is the Marquess of Kistleton.”

She wrinkled her nose. “He’s not nearly as priggish as you are. You need to be more relaxed with close friends and family.”

“My family can call me Asher,” he said. “Close friends, do not get that privilege.”

“You’re awful,” she told him. “When you marry, are you going to insist your wife calls you Daventry? What a cold marriage that will make if you want your future bride to refer to you only with your title.”

“I’m only ten and eight,” he said in a stiff tone. “It’s not as if I am going to wed soon.”

“As if that matters,” she scoffed. “You’ll still be just as insufferable in a decade.”

She rather pitied the woman that Asher would end up marrying… She wanted a husband that adored her, and only her. One that would want to be with her always and treat her as something to be cherished, not endured. She had a feeling that Asher would keep some distance from his wife. It would indeed be a cold union between them. A part of her hoped that the woman he married would help him become less…well, less of a person who only followed the rules. He should develop some roguish tendencies. It wasn’t right for him to be so proper all the time. Asher, she feared, would keep his future wife at arm’s length, creating a union as frosty as the December air. Perhaps, though, his bride might thaw his icy demeanor.

Rosella stared out at the sky. A shooting star streaked along the velvety blackness. She drew in a breath as the delightful surprise presented itself to her. “Oh, my,” she said and placed a hand on her chest. She could make a wish. What should she wish for? She glanced back at her brother and then at the fading star. There was only one thing she could wish for.

She closed her eyes and sent her wish up to the heavens. Please help me find my true love, and if you’re listening, find someone to wake my brother up and show him how to live. We both deserve happiness. Even if he is the worst sometimes.

“What has you so excited,” Asher asked.

“There was a shooting star,” she told him. “I made a wish.”

“Did you now.” He scoffed. “You still believe in such fanciful things? You’re foolish, as always.”

Rosella sighed. Again, and probably not for the last time. “To think I may have wasted it on the likes of you.”

“I don’t need you to make wishes for me.” He turned his nose up at her. “I’ll do just fine without your meddling.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” she told him. “But all the same, I think you needed this. Only time will tell if it comes true or not.”

She turned back to the window. Their guests were walking along the sidewalk, Noelle leading the group. She grinned and turned to her brother. “They’re here. Are you ready for them?”

“I will endeavor to persevere,” he said stoically.

The butler answered the door and let them all in. The Duke and Duchess of Kissinger, along with Noelle and Lucian, entered the room. She sucked in a breath when her gaze met Lucian’s. She didn’t tell Asher why she refused to use his title. Because she had been in love with Lucian for years now.

The issue, of course, was he didn’t seem to really notice her. To him, she was nothing more than his little sister’s dearest friend, and a girl he had to be nice to when their families socialized together. When they were alone, though, he was far more brusque. He didn’t like to have her near and would often snipe at her.

She wanted to hate him. Life would be far easier if she could. It had been almost a year since she’d seen him last. The sight of him now did funny things to her heart, but she wouldn’t allow him to notice her anxiousness. Instead, she turned to Noelle. Her friend was safe. Any proximity to Lucian could lead to her undoing.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she told Noelle. She gestured toward Asher. “My brother fails at being decent company.”

“Doesn’t he always,” she said, then rolled her eyes. Noelle glanced at Asher and glared at him. Asher and Noelle did not make their dislike for each other a secret. They didn’t even care if the family was around or not. They argued. Always. It could be disconcerting. So much so, she couldn’t help wondering if they were drawn to each other and that was their way of showing their feelings. Of course, that could just be wishful thinking. Rosella would love to have Noelle be her sister, in truth. “We should go to the library.”

“Go ahead. I need to fetch your gift,” Rosella said, excusing herself. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Rosella rushed up to her bedchamber to retrieve the gift. They didn’t always exchange any gifts, but in the last couple of years, they had. This year, they were six and ten, and she wanted to get something special for Noelle. She grabbed the small box and then went down the stairs. She tripped on the last step and stumbled forward. Her arms flailed and the tiny box went flying. Rosella would have hit the floor if not for the quick thinking of someone nearby.

“I have you,” Lucian said. His arms were wrapped around her and she was flush against him. She blinked up at him several times. Rosella had never been at a loss for words before. But then again, she had never had the privilege of being held by Lucian either.

“Thank…” She swallowed hard, then began again, “Thank You.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He smiled at her. Was it her imagination or was it a little roguish? As if it truly was his pleasure to hold her? She shook her head. No. That could not be right. It was definitely the musings of a wishful mind.

“You can let me go now.” She really didn’t want him to, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

“Can I?” He lifted a brow. “Are you certain? You might trip over your feet at the sight of me again and fall to your death.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Do not flatter yourself,” she told him. As if… Though to be honest, he wasn’t that far off the mark. “My clumsiness has nothing to do with you.”

“If you say so, love,” he said. There was something almost roguish there. Surely, she wasn’t mistaken in her observation. What was he playing at?

“I do,” she said, more firmly this time. “I need to go find that gift I dropped.” She had to make sure it wasn’t broken. Please let it not be broken…

“A gift?” He tilted his head to the side. The scoundrel was still holding her. What could she do that would ensure he let her go? Did she really want him to remove his arms from around her? It did feel good… “What did you get for me?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she said. She would not allow herself to give him anything. Rosella feared he would know how she felt if she did. “That gift is for Noelle.”

“Ah,” he said, feigning disappointment. “I see where I stand. My heart may never recover from the slight.” Her heart ached to give him everything.

“You have never wanted a gift from me. You are mocking me.” She licked her lips. “Why would you want anything I had to offer?”

“Love,” he said huskily. Lucian’s expression softened. “Perhaps I want more from you than you know.” He shook his head and started to release her. She mourned the loss of his warmth. “I’ll help you find the gift.” There was a solemness to his tone now. The moment was lost. Whatever it had meant, she did not know. Something had passed between them though, and part of her wanted to insist he explain himself. That last statement had been far too cryptic.

She never had a chance to ask him, though. He retrieved her box and handed it back to her. “Have a wonderful Christmastide, Rosella,” he said in a soft tone. She tightened her grip on the box as she met his gaze. “I hope it’s all you dreamt it would be.” Then he walked away as if nothing had happened. Nothing really had happened. It just felt like it had been important somehow. Why had he pulled away? What had he wanted?

Rosella feared she would never know the answers to those questions, and that made her sad. She stopped to check the box and breathed a sigh of relief. At least one thing had gone right. Her gift for Noelle was intact. Now to just meet with her friend and give her the gift.

She let her moment with Lucian fall from her mind. It would only frustrate her to continue dwelling on it. Lucian still didn’t see her the way she wanted him to. That had to be a trick of her imagination. His little endearments had meant nothing too. She wasn’t his love or anything close to it.

Her brother had been correct, her wishing on a star wouldn’t give her what she wanted most. She loved Lucian, but he would never truly love her. If only wishing made it so…